A letter to that little girl

I hate you for letting me down, for letting so much happen to me. For just taking it all instead of trying to stop it, trying to stop any of it. You had the power to fight. You had the power to say no. You had the power to speak up. You had the power to make a difference back then, to change the way things would turn out today. And I hate you for not using that power. I hate you for not taking any steps to make things better for yourself.

I hate that you just silently stood there and took each beating, each verbal, physical and mental assault on your being. You could have made some attempt, any attempt to stop it or to at least try and lessen it. You could have spoken up when you were falsely being accused of something you didn't do. You could have pleaded for leniency when you did do something wrong. Instead you sat there and took it all.

You could have done more to think about what would set your mother and/or father off before you did the things you did. Fighting with your siblings? You always knew what the end result of doing that would be. Even if not at first, surely at some point fairly quickly after the first beating that left you barely able to sit for a week, you knew. It happened every time. Talking to your sisters after you were sent to bed? You knew that they expected you to be quiet and sleep. Again, even if you didn't know at first, after several times of being beaten black & blue and then forced to stand in a corner until your legs gave out you knew this wasn't a one time thing.

Why didn't you ever learn to obey your parents more? I know you think you were acting like the child you were, but you knew the consequences of not being the perfect child. You knew the emotional and physical pain that would be inflicted each and every time you did something they didn't like.

Why didn't you ever speak up and tell someone what was going on? You knew everyone in the neighborhood knew what was happening inside your house. You know they heard that woman's raging voice, her hateful words, even with the doors and windows shut you knew they heard. You could have asked one of them for help. You could have sought out safety somewhere outside the home rather than trying to find it inside your own head.

You knew what was going on wasn't normal, wasn't right. You'd sit there while at your friend's houses or out in public and watch the interactions between other children and their parents. You'd sit and long to be put up for adoption so that you could be a part of a real family. So you could feel what it was like to be loved, to be valued, to be cared for. Yet you sat there and remained quiet about your own family. You never once spoke up about the unspeakable. I hate you for that.

Then the sexual abuse started and once again you kept quiet. He never threatened to harm you or anyone else if you said anything. He just took over and used your body as he saw fit and you just let him. You never said no, you never avoided him, you never did anything to protect yourself. You knew what he was doing was wrong. The shame you felt when it was happening was one of the signs that you knew. And you did nothing but take it. You never told anyone.

I will always hate that you allowed yourself to be a victim. That you were that shy, quiet, depressed little girl, the one that never found her own voice. It was there all the time, you had the power to use it and you didn't. And it wasn't just at home that you allowed yourself to be victimized was it? At school too, you allowed yourself to be picked on and treated like shit by both classmates and teachers. Never once speaking up for yourself. Never once taking the knowledge you had about how a person should be treated and standing up for your right to be treated that way.

By never speaking up, you allowed yourself to become damaged. You've left me to pick up the fragments of a life that never really existed. I'm now forced to try and put those pieces together, but after all these years, many of them are missing. I will never be able to become whole no matter how hard I try. There is no way to fill in the gaps, the chunks of life stolen while you were busy being silent.

I hate knowing that the child you were made me the adult I am today. I hate that you never helped yourself and in turn left me helpless so many, many years later. I hate that by never finding and using your voice, you left me unable to speak to this day. All I have are the memories and scars of the abuse you stood there and took. The echos of nearly every person in your life telling you how worthless and stupid and ugly you were that I have no way now to challenge those voices.

You left me to continue abusing myself even after everyone else finally stopped because that's all I learned from you, from your silence. That I deserved to be abused then, that I still deserve it today. That I'm not worthy of anything better. You ingrained those thoughts into yourself and therefore into me. You've left me powerless because you didn't have the courage, the strength, the willingness to utilize even an ounce of power when you had the chance to make a difference. I will always hate you more than anyone else.